


The First Taste

by Brithna



Series: Tidal Project [6]
Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 15:10:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brithna/pseuds/Brithna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well ladies, this song…yes THIS SONG is the one that delayed me literally by four months if not five. During that time, I bitched, whined, cried and complained to Peetsden until she probably wanted to drown me in the kitchen sink. She, however, did not drown me. (thank you peet) But – what she did do was give me a verbal ‘go ahead, it’s okay’ sort of shove that pushed me in this direction.</p>
<p>By now you want to know what the problem was, right? It’s this: The translation between what I see in the song and what I have written here…doesn’t really mesh. I KNOW what needs to be written here…but for five months I could not get that on paper. So…after much whining…I thought what the hell: take the title…take some words…do the best you can and call it a day. I relayed this to Peet and well...you know sometimes you just need to hear someone say ‘yes, that’s totally fine’…she told me that so I got off my ass and wrote this.</p>
<p>Now with that said –I stepped off into something with this story that I have not done before and holy shit it will be a long time before I try to do something from this POV again…because damnit…it was hard. I hope it reads well for you all and I hope you feel everything and see this the way I do because after it was all said, done and written…my heart feels pretty connected to this story. Maybe that’s just because of how it’s written…I don’t know. But in any case – read and enjoy. This is the longest of them all.</p>
<p>By the way this is written from Andy’s POV.</p>
    </blockquote>





	The First Taste

**Author's Note:**

> Well ladies, this song…yes THIS SONG is the one that delayed me literally by four months if not five. During that time, I bitched, whined, cried and complained to Peetsden until she probably wanted to drown me in the kitchen sink. She, however, did not drown me. (thank you peet) But – what she did do was give me a verbal ‘go ahead, it’s okay’ sort of shove that pushed me in this direction.
> 
> By now you want to know what the problem was, right? It’s this: The translation between what I see in the song and what I have written here…doesn’t really mesh. I KNOW what needs to be written here…but for five months I could not get that on paper. So…after much whining…I thought what the hell: take the title…take some words…do the best you can and call it a day. I relayed this to Peet and well...you know sometimes you just need to hear someone say ‘yes, that’s totally fine’…she told me that so I got off my ass and wrote this.
> 
> Now with that said –I stepped off into something with this story that I have not done before and holy shit it will be a long time before I try to do something from this POV again…because damnit…it was hard. I hope it reads well for you all and I hope you feel everything and see this the way I do because after it was all said, done and written…my heart feels pretty connected to this story. Maybe that’s just because of how it’s written…I don’t know. But in any case – read and enjoy. This is the longest of them all.
> 
> By the way this is written from Andy’s POV.

Tonight I climb into bed incredibly early. The sun has barely had time to set but this has almost become a habit for me now so it really doesn’t matter. There’s really nothing better to do—this is a total lie—and since I work the early shift at the paper it’s certainly easy enough to accomplish. The funny thing is…I very seldom fall asleep on these nights. Laying here staring at the ceiling is more my style and tonight is no exception. After all, tomorrow is a big day for me so there’s naturally a lot to think about, worry about. A lot to keep me awake.

Yet, _thinking_ and _worrying_ is sort of useless because there is so little about tomorrow that is within my power to control at this point. Everything has been set in motion…my plans have been made and tomorrow will either end well or not at all. Nothing else can be done.

My greatest hope is that some sort of relief will be found in my actions…in this very crazy and very stupid idea of mine. But either way, relief or not, something has to happen…no matter the outcome, something _has_ to _happen_. I can’t keep going like this. So…as Miranda is so fond of saying, ‘I live on hope’, and that is certainly true these days.

I’m tired of looking at the ceiling. There is a crack in it that I have memorized a million times over and the fan is _still_ dusty and cobwebs are definitely _still_ present. I’m really too busy to dust in spite of all this time I have to lay here in the bed. Shutting my eyes isn’t an option though because I’m hardly ready for that so I roll over and pull a picture out of my nightstand.

It’s of me and Miranda. Our backs are turned to the camera but our profiles are clearly visible. We’re looking at some random painting; I can’t remember whose work it is anymore. Art really isn’t my thing, even though Miranda always explains the artist’s intentions…most of the time it all looks the same to me. Especially that impressionist stuff.

But anyway…our backs are turned and Miranda is attempting to explain the meaning of what just looks like a bunch of swirls of paint to me. She’s pointing at something and I’m following along, listening to every word. Neither of us is smiling. Lily was quick to point that out when she gave me this photo. I remember just blowing her off as I tried to figure out what possessed her to take the picture in the first place. I still haven’t figured that out but I’m thankful that she did and I’m doubly thankful that Miranda didn’t catch her.

Even though Lily knows just about everything there is to know, I’ve still failed to explain the unexplainable…the reasons for the feelings I have. It all seems so complex sometimes; but at least she understands and doesn’t jump up and down for answers that I don’t have. Frankly, I just consider it a miracle that she’s willing to put up with me at all nowadays. Especially after Nate, especially after I disappeared for a few months, especially after I went off the deep end then came back around like nothing ever happened. But thankfully she acted like nothing ever happened too and things have been pretty okay since then.

Miranda looks really pretty in this picture. I look okay, I guess, but she really looks nice…then again when does Miranda _not_ look nice? Or beautiful? Or…See? Anytime I try to go beyond _that_ , the words get stuck.

So…she looks really pretty, I’ll stick with that and her dress is a deep purple color. She would verbally kick my ass for not knowing the shade but honestly there are thousands of shades in Miranda’s color wheel and I seriously don’t feel like memorizing them all. No matter how important she thinks it is.

This dress or at least the color kind of reminds me of what Miranda was wearing the first time I saw her again after I left. Not the time in the street. The other time. I really don’t consider that heart stopping moment in the street to be the first time at all. The really, _real_ first time…I was in _Barnes & Noble_ of all places—I really don’t like chain bookstores—looking for a book to mail my niece for her birthday. There the three of them were, Caroline, Cassidy and Miranda all sitting there on a bench in the kids section, heads down, totally oblivious to the rest of the world.

I can’t deny that I seriously thought about walking away. They would have never known I was there…but I couldn’t. My feet wouldn’t have gone in the opposite direction even if someone else was controlling them. But at the same time I felt sick…panicky. Considering that I’d just about gotten over these panic attacks, I was sort of unprepared. In the end I guess part of me figured that this might be a chance for me to get it out of my system. All I really wanted, at that time, was to see her just once thinking that maybe I could just get over whatever in the hell was paralyzing me. That kind of didn’t happen.

So there they were. Miranda was explaining rather patiently to Cassidy that for once there _were_ limits to what she could make possible and that going 2.5 miles down to the bottom of the ocean floor for an up-close and personal view of the Titanic was definitely a limit. Picture books would just have to do. This news, of course, wasn’t received very well since Cassidy’s used to getting anything she wants.

Caroline finally spoke as Miranda kept turning the pages in a gigantic book of photographs. Apparently she was perfectly happy with Miranda’s limits because being in that much water sounded like a ‘pretty dumb idea’ to her. I agree, seeing as how I don’t really like being around more water than I can drink or take a bath in. Cassidy was less than impressed with her sister’s critique of her idea and let her know it too.

After a little more debating went on over this devastating development in the world, I got brave and stupid and went over…and simply said hello.

No one moved. All three of them, especially Miranda, looked genuinely surprised. I’m sad to say that I don’t remember much of our conversation. All I know for certain is that it lasted forty-five minutes and ended in coffee from the Starbucks inside the store. Miranda had on a purple blouse that really made her hair stand out. And she hardly had any product in it so it sort of just had a natural flow. It was hard not to touch it and that’s when I figured out that even if everything ended right there in _Barnes & Noble_ with her telling me to get lost…I’d still be messed up even though I’d know it was all finished.

But…Miranda didn’t tell me to get lost and the twins were half-way nice to me…I remember that too. And she asked me about my job. I didn’t mention the reference she sent because I knew that would just piss her off. Miranda isn’t big on being thanked for anything. She finds that sort of trivial. I did, however, tell her that I was enjoying it and felt like I was making decent headway. She just nodded.

Plans were not made to meet again. I wanted to but the words got stuck in my mouth. She did mention the benefit Ralph Lauren was hosting for the Breast Cancer Society though…it was the very next week and I was supposed to be there too. Even though I don’t work for _Runway_ anymore, I still receive invitations to events sometimes. Making a good impression really can last. I didn’t tell her that I would be there but it made me feel good to know that I would see her again if I chose to go. And for once, I would choose to go…

Before I left with my book and coffee I made sure to tell Cassidy to check the movie store down the street for documentaries on the Titanic. I could tell by the look on her face that this wasn’t really what she wanted to hear but with a very dramatic sigh she said it might be alright after all.

Miranda appeared to be pretty grateful for this idea since she is and will always be willing to do anything to keep her kids happy. I left them in the store after that and went home surprised that I didn’t cry on the way. This made me kind of proud since I’ve spent so much time doing that over the past couple of months anyway…in spite of how hard I try not to.

We saw each other the next week. I really didn’t anticipate her coming up to me but she did at a moment when I wasn’t paying attention. There were about ten paintings up for auction and I was mindlessly surveying the work, trying to understand things that are far beyond my purview. She came over, scaring me half to death because I was _also_ in the middle of trying hard to block out her presence even though I wanted to be so close.

Without prompting she explained what I was looking at. Again—I don’t remember what it was now and I definitely don’t remember much of what we talked about. I guess you could say that’s a bit of a problem for me. I’ve built up so many memories on things that haven’t happened yet—might never happen—t hat it’s sometimes hard for me to separate what’s really been said between us and what hasn’t.

But anyway, I _do_ remember getting another really crazy and stupid idea. Before the words got a chance to get stuck in my throat again I mentioned a new collection of work Lily was about to show at her gallery. It was in three days.

So…in three days, without me actually inviting her, Miranda came through the door of the gallery fifteen minutes into the opening. She took my breath away, as usual, and at first I didn’t know what to say. I don’t think she did either. Thirty minutes later I realized that she had been in that lowly gallery _twenty_ minutes beyond her usual ‘get me the hell out of here’ time frame. The minutes continued to tick away and Miranda stayed there with me for well over an hour.

I ended up having to introduce her to Lily, who just about fainted; but by then I was ready to faint too so it didn’t matter. I didn’t faint though and neither did Lily. To top it off she found it within herself to actually speak and ask Miranda if she was having a decent enough time. You never ask Miranda anything but poor Lily didn’t know. I didn’t expect Miranda to answer since I know she is never enthusiastic when it comes to dealing with the ‘general populace’ much less answering questions. But…Miranda _did_ answer and even though it wasn’t entirely positive, she was polite in her own way, saying “Oh yes, the work is somewhat disappointing but, as you can see, there are no press within a mile of this little place. That, in and of itself, more than makes up for the obvious lack in talent.”  Lily was probably offended but I was plenty thrilled with her answer.

After that it just so happens that every week, for months…even through the hectic holiday season, we find ourselves at Lily’s little gallery, on the same night and the same time.

At some point during these gallery visits I have started to realize something. Always, every single time, during some random moment a feeling of heaviness overtakes us. At first I thought it was just me but it isn’t. She feels it too. I can just tell, and even though months have passed, we still experience it every single time we meet.

Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I depress her. That certainly wouldn’t be unreasonable to think of as an answer since I’ve been depressing myself for quite a while now. But I don’t know. Sometimes I just look over and she seems so sad. I bet most people think Miranda is a sad person anyway but I’ve never thought this…until now. People only think that way about her because they don’t know how to separate Miranda from Miranda _Priestly_. One is a real person. The other is just a character. I will always see Miranda as one of the greatest character actresses that _never_ made it onto film…not counting photos on _Page Six_ of course.

But anyway, it just seems like before the night is over we always end up with a heavy blanket over us. I don’t like it. It makes it hard to breathe and hard to focus and more than a few times I’ve considered saying something about it. But I never do. In fact I really never bring up anything at all. I just let her dictate the small talk…because that’s all it ever is. I imagine she’s surprised that I can keep my mouth shut. I know I am but somewhere between throwing away my phone and ending up here I’ve sort of stopped rambling…talking. I think I’ve finally figured out that if I just listen, I’ll eventually know everything I need to know…or at least what I am meant to know. I hope that’s true. I hope I’m not missing something.

I’ve had about all I can take of this picture so I put it back in my nightstand and grab my notepad that is there on top. Looking over my notes for tomorrow makes me a little nervous. I hope this goes right. I hope I can open my mouth and that the words don’t get stuck. Tomorrow is very important…it will push me farther than I’ve ever been pushed. Deep down I know it’s the right thing to do and just so long as I keep telling myself that it’s worth it, I might be alright. I can only hope.

The entire thing is happening purely by accident. Well, by accident and probably by an intervention from God himself. Last week I was helping Jim, he’s a co-worker, edit an article. Jim happens to be over what I like to call the ‘business obituary’s’ section of the paper and he claims pretty loudly that it’s the most boring thing he’s ever done in his life.

His newest ‘obituary’, the one I read for him, is about two brothers that have purchased a certain building on Madison Avenue. I guess they think they can do a better job, in this failing economy, of leasing it out than the previous folks who hung on for a long a painful death. And honestly, they just might since they’re literally tearing the inside of it to pieces and redesigning the entire place. Big name retail shops and important people have already spoken for half of the spaces that don’t even exist yet. The important thing here is that about five floors of this building are the old _Runway_ headquarters. By the time I got done reading his article once all the way through, I felt like someone had smacked me in the head with a hammer.

It was then that this crazy and stupid plan formed in my mind. I made some calls later that day and found out that the third floor of _Runway’s_ old section of this building went basically unchanged since their move. Some lawyer’s, wanting for a cooler address, snapped up that floor and according to my contacts had kept it as it was since they really didn’t have the money to do much else.

This particular floor is also where Miranda’s old office is located.

Before I got off work I combed through old pictures on the internet and found a few of her office back then. I printed them and on my way home I went on a little field trip. Being a reporter has taught me a whole lot about how to make fast friends so in no time the construction crew, that is only just now working on the lower levels, let me go up to the right floor. Not only are the four walls that make up her office the same, minus the decorations…the damn desk is still there too.

I have to let Miranda see this space again. I have to give her the chance to revisit the place where it all began for her. I just have to. Even though she might say no, it will mean a lot either way and it will be a chance for me to finally open my mouth. And even if I _can’t_ get the words out after all, it will show her that I care…an awful lot. More than she will probably ever know.

Unknowingly, Miranda would be the one to help me figure out how to pull this whole crazy and stupid thing off. Last week when we met at Lily’s gallery some lady was talking to _everybody_ she came within five feet of. When she finally made it to us Miranda literally cringed but stayed where she was. This lady went on and on about the ‘upcoming’ cherry blossom festival at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.

Since I hardly take my eyes off Miranda on these nights, I saw her interest was piqued. This lady continued her dissertation and Miranda, amazingly enough, just kept listening and then it happened. She said she’d never been but was ‘quite fond of such things’. I never pegged Miranda as a nature lover but right then I knew what I had to do. As soon as this little old lady walked off to find her next victim, I found my voice and asked Miranda if she wanted to go.

She hesitated, just like I expected, but instead of pushing I told her to just think about it, yet I was careful to mention that there probably wouldn’t be any press around since it sounded like this festival had been coming and going since dinosaurs walked the Earth. I threw this in because somewhere in our weekly meetings, I’ve been able to pick up on the fact that, for some reason, being out of the public-eye right now is more important to Miranda than ever before. Anyway, she just nodded and we made yet another circle around the room, looking at the same boring paintings we’d already seen twice over. 

Right before we parted ways she agreed to go, keeping her head down the entire time we discussed where to meet. Finally she looked up at me and said it would probably be best if I came over and then we went together. This is exactly what I had been hoping for.

So this is where I find myself now, waiting for the night to pass. I plan on telling her I need to make a quick stop first, like to get some information on something or whatever for an article. I figure we’ll park a block away, maybe two, and I’ll just hope and pray that it works and she agrees to walk with me. Somehow, and I really don’t know why, but I think she’ll agree.

After this I don’t have much of a plan. I know myself well enough to realize that my fears and nervousness will derail any plans I make for farther than the front door of the building. All I know is…I _have_ to give this to Miranda. Whether anything comes of it or not…well, I guess that is seriously up to God or whoever else might be watching. Hopefully someone _is_ actually watching because I need _all_ the help I can get.

***

Its Saturday now…eight-thirty in the morning. I’ve been awake since five, unable to sleep any more. I guess that’s what I get for going to bed so damn early on a Friday night. At least time has gone by pretty fast. I went for a run, took a shower…and changed clothes three times and now I only have an hour left. We agreed to meet at ten but I know Miranda will expect me there much earlier and besides I have the subway to contend with.

I’ve decided to go easy on myself today. Usually on our gallery nights I go all out with a dress, heels, and all the other things I used to need to get Miranda’s approval when I worked for her. Today doesn’t seem like a day for that so I go with jeans, a light blue-button down shirt, and just a little make-up. The color reminds me of Miranda’s eyes when she’s happy. Like that day in Barnes & Noble…she seemed pretty happy that day.

On my way out the door I grab a light jacket because April can be so unpredictable and my coffee. Midway down the stairs of my building I have to turn around and go back. If I’m going to pull this off I’ll at least need my notepad or something so I go in and grab it then I’m finally able to really leave.

As the subway doors open then close behind me I take one last deep breath and say one last prayer because after this subway car starts its journey, I’ll be at the mercy of fate. On the way I wonder what Miranda is doing. Probably working, looking at _The Book_ and writing nasty notes to people so they know just how incompetent they _still_ are. Or maybe she’s waiting for me. I kind of doubt that because it’s hard for me to visualize Miranda just standing around waiting for anything. No matter what the reason.

I’m walking up 73rd street now and my heart is pounding…racing. I almost start to cry. What if this goes wrong? What if she changes her mind all together and won’t go anywhere at all? How did I even get so wrapped up in this woman in the first place? But seriously, I’ve asked myself that question a million times and don’t have an answer. I just love her. I can’t help it.

About three doors down from Miranda’s a funny thing hits me. I’m probably, at this very moment, the poster child for the entire bi-polar community…or maybe not, since these feelings, these highs and lows today are coming and going so fast I can hardly keep up. Hopefully when I see Miranda and we start going down the road I will feel a little calmer. I can only hope.

As funny as this bi-polar idea is, it’s even funnier that even though there’s the heaviness between us; there is, at least for me, a sense of calm too. That might be a very simple and very watered down version of what the feeling actually is, but it’s the best I can do. For so long all I’ve felt is…on edge, I guess. But now for a few hours once a week I get to feel calm and like I’m not alone. Because really…in a room full of people you can still feel alone and I never feel that way with Miranda.

When I get to her front door my hand reaches out and I knock. I had meant to stand here for a second and get myself together but now there is no chance for that because Miranda opens the door right away. Maybe she was waiting after all.

“Hello.” She says and comes right outside. I’m kind of glad because I really wasn’t looking forward to going into the townhouse. Something tells me that if I sit down in there, I’ll probably end up losing my nerve and cancel the whole thing all by myself. That would be pretty horrible so I return her greeting with a little smile.

Her wardrobe surprises me. I’ve never seen her in something so casual. The Prada heels are there but the rest is jeans, a loose fitting white top and she’s got that Donna Karen trench that I’ve always liked her in—except this one is black. And there’s a hat. It’s black too…a very fancy and no doubt expensive baseball cap with a little Prada logo on the side. She’s clearly trying for the invisible thing today.

I think she knows I’m blown away by it but she just smirks and keeps walking to her car. All thoughts of telling her that she looks nice are thrown out when she hands me the keys.

“You remember how to drive it, don’t you?” She’s not even looking at me and is already half way to sitting in the passenger seat. Luckily I _do_ remember how to drive it and thank God I had gotten a lot better at it in my nine months at _Runway_.

Miranda’s got her seat belt on now and she’s staring at me through the window since I have yet to actually get into the freaking car. Why I’m waiting I seriously don’t know so I get in. Unlike Miranda Priestly, _Miranda_ doesn’t give me some speech about ‘glacial pace’ and ‘you know how much waiting thrills me’. She just puts her sunglasses on and I just drive.

Like everything else she’s wearing, these aren’t her trademark sunglasses and they definitely have a darker tint to them. Surprisingly enough, even though her entire wardrobe is so outside her own ‘normal’, it still looks good on her and she seems relaxed.

As usual I wait for her to talk. She brings up the research she’s done on the cherry blossom festival and tells me that there are over 200 trees, 42 ‘species and cultivated varieties’…whatever that means, and that the first trees were planted after World War I…and on and _on_. I try to keep up but whether at work or not, whenever Miranda starts to list things off out loud it always ends up being at a rapid fire pace.

After she’s satisfied that I’m now just as self-educated as she is on the subject, Miranda says the girls are ‘most unhappy’ to be at their fathers this weekend. Apparently the prospect of seeing a bunch of trees is much more exciting than being with him. I can totally relate to that since I haven’t seen or spoken to mine in months. I wonder if I’ll ever get a chance to tell Miranda about my father.

We’re stopped at a red-light now and I sneak a glance at her, realizing something.  It’s only us in this car. Never once have we been alone together in all these months. Does she realize this too? If she does she’s not acting any different than she usually does so I guess it’s no big deal. Well really if it _was_ a big deal then she wouldn’t be here at all.

Like always, she’s looking out the window. I wonder what she sees. Sometimes I don’t think she sees anything but the shapes and shadows passing by. Maybe looking out the window all the time is just her escape from reality. Maybe it doesn’t really matter to her what’s outside…just so long as it’s not her own life staring back at her. I can relate to that too.

It isn’t until the fifth red-light that I finally tell her about this stop I need to make.

“Hey, I…uh.” My fingers start doing that idiotic drumming thing on the steering wheel and I force myself to stop. “I kind of need to make a quick stop. It’s on our way…I should have mentioned it before.”

I can see her eyebrow rise even though I’m not looking at her. “A quick _stop_?”

“Yeah…I need to set up an interview and the guy I have to contact hasn’t been answering his phone. It’ll just take a second.” That’s a pretty lame excuse and my chest starts to hurt. She won’t fall for this.

But she does…or at least just this much of it. “I suppose we have time.” Her mouth is set in a thin line and I can tell that even though she’s fallen for it, she’s ticked off that I didn’t plan this out better. Or so she thinks. 

In an effort to keep from cracking and backing out, I just say, “Thanks” and keep driving. The traffic thins out a little and before I realize it we’re right here on Madison Avenue.

I pass the building up in favor of going on two more blocks. There’s a Starbucks. Miranda can’t say no to Starbucks so I’m hoping this will get her out of the car. The mere smell of it will probably work. It does and I’m seriously starting to not believe my luck.

She chooses something different, something I’ve never seen her drink. It’s some weird Brazilian blend that doesn’t really smell all that good to me but she forces me to try a sample. I do. It’s okay, too strong, but okay. Miranda can tell that I don’t like it and rolls her eyes saying something about my underdeveloped palate. I ignore her and order a big fat Mocha Coconut Frappuccino. She says nothing and beats me to paying for our drinks. It’s then that I dumbly realize she’s not carrying a bag…come to think of it; there isn’t one in the car either. All Miranda has with her is this wallet that she has just pulled out of her coat.

She of course notices me eyeing it, it matches her baseball cap; little Prada logo, black in color. It’s a guy’s wallet. “I can travel very light when I want to.” She says and while we wait Miranda opens the wallet further and shows me that Miriam Lofton is really the one that travels lightly. Her license photo is far from kind. Intentional of course.

It’s kind of silly but the first thing that comes out of my mouth is “That’s pretty cool.” And since I can’t believe she actually went to the DMV looking like that, I say “You actually went to the DMV?”

She almost grins and whispers, “I think so too. I haven’t had it long…it was just a…unexpected idea. And _no_ , I did not _go_ to the _DMV_.” She rolls her eyes at me then finishes. “I had a little help.”

“Oh, well I can’t believe you haven’t tried something like that until now.” I say and seriously I can’t believe it at all. How has she survived this long with no way to escape besides looking out the window?

“I know.” She says but our drinks are ready and this stops her train of thought for a minute. Once we walk out the door she continues. “A few weeks ago the girls were gone…and I drove to Maine.”

This makes me actually stop in the middle of the sidewalk. “You stayed?” I ask and can’t help but notice that she seems to be awfully proud of herself for this accomplishment. An accomplishment that most people would only see as a regular, everyday thing.

“For one night. I was nervous I admit…it felt a little like I was stealing someone’s identity since I’ve got more than just a new driver’s license. Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, right.” I shake my head and lead the way since it seems like she’s voluntarily decided to come with me. At this I can’t be happier.

I like the idea of Miranda getting away on her own. It will probably do her wonders and it’ll definitely be a better relaxation tool than any massage. It would be fun to see that part of her; just out in the open, alone and just…out there…getting a dose of the real world. Like right now…

“How far do we have to go?” Miranda says behind her drink. She’s watching the people as we walk by but I can tell she’s not uncomfortable…yet. And I can also tell that she has absolutely _no_ idea what’s coming next.

Then I realize that _I_ have absolutely no idea what comes next either. But I can’t back out now so I say, “Not far.”, and she just follows me.

 While I concentrate on picking my way though the crowded sidewalk I think about how things have gone pretty well today, with the exception of her getting pissed over this ‘unplanned’ stop. Come to think of it, I feel better right now than I have in a long time. Part of it’s probably got to do with the fact that I’ve now seen Miranda twice this week. That’s plenty to make me feel good but there’s more. We’re outside. In the daytime. And we’re okay. No one is breathing down her neck with a camera, there are no meetings, run-throughs, interviews, or articles to write for either of us and to top it off, our phones aren’t ringing. It’s just a free day and we’re here together. This makes everything I’m about to do totally worth it, even if this is actually a mistake…to have this much of it has been worth every second.

We’re one building away now and I don’t think I can wait any longer. If I wait until we’re right there at the door…I don’t know. I can’t wait any longer and the sidewalk has sort of cleared out a little…

“Miranda?” I slow down some, which is almost at a snail’s pace now because believe or not, away from work, Miranda is a _slow_ -ass walker. Or maybe I’m just so conditioned to ‘fast,fast,fast’ that her new ‘ _slow_ -ass walker’ pace is just more noticeable?

“Yes?”

She slows down too and our arms brush. I can’t look at her yet so I just open my mouth since I’m determined to accomplish this. “I lied to you.” That’s it. That’s all I can come up with but at least it’s the direct, Gods honest truth. No bullshitting.

I see Miranda reach out and she grabs my elbow right as my confession ends. “What?” she says and I stop walking and face her for once. She looks confused, like maybe she didn’t hear me right. But she did. Miranda is anything but hard of hearing.

“I lied to you.” I repeat and force myself to finish this. This part is the hardest…getting her into the building. After that everything will be…well not _easier_ but maybe a little. “I don’t have an interview to schedule, Miranda.” Miranda lets go of my elbow and takes off her sunglasses. I swallow hard and feel a knot form in my stomach. Her eyes aren’t light-blue…

 “Explain. Quickly.” Is all she says and it must be killing her to not go off on me like I’m pretty sure she wants too. Why she isn’t is a huge mystery because the only people Miranda is patient with are her kids.

“Miranda…” I blink a few times and look up and down the sidewalk. No one’s paying attention so I reach out just like she did a second ago and grab her elbow gently. Sometimes I forget how small she looks but how strong she is all at the same time. Miranda reminds me of it now as she pulls away from me. I just pull at her again, gently and plead with her. “Please, Miranda.” 

Suddenly, her eyes change and I feel the tension in her arm release as she takes a hesitant step forward into my space. The best way to keep myself from getting too scared when there are only meager words and the potential for exasperation is soaring, has always been to keep direct eye contact with Miranda; so I make an attempt to bravely stare her down.

When I know she’s not walking away, I begin. “I know this is where you started. The inside is being ripped apart.” Her eyes get a little big but I ignore it and keep going. “Your floor is pretty much the same…I thought you’d… Well.” I pause for a second and tighten my grip on her elbow just a tiny bit. “I thought you’d like to see it one more time. I thought it might…I thought…” Now I’m stuck. The words are struck. I can’t believe this…actually _yes_ I can because this is how I’ve envisioned it. Me. Screwing up.

“You did this on purpose? The festival?”

“I did it on purpose. I wanted to surprise you.” Then I realize I’m not only holding Miranda’s elbow but I’m rubbing the inside of her arm with my thumb. I’m not going to stop though because for all I know this might be the last time I get to touch her. “But, Miranda I _did_ want to take you to the festival.” I think I better clear that up right here and now because for some reason it seems like she might be _more_ upset over this stupid festival being part of the ‘lie’ than anything else. I will never understand the oddity known as Miranda. Seriously never. “I just didn’t know how else to get you here. If you don’t want to go inside that’s fine. But if you do…I mean we’re going to the festival either way, okay?” And now I almost feel like I’m trying to pacify my niece with promises of junk food and toys.

We’ve stood here for God knows how long and I’ve been finished with my little speech for what seems just as long before she says something. Actually she doesn’t say anything at all. She just nods and I just go forward with my hand still at her elbow.

Getting in the building is easy enough. When I was here the other day I made sure someone would be around to let us in and in fact there is a whole crew here. Luckily half way through the lobby I see the same foreman that I spoke with the other day. When we get closer to him Miranda puts her sunglasses back on and I let go of her elbow. I make pretty quick work of saying hello and pass him a few nice, crisp one-hundred dollar bills inside my handshake. That was the deal. Two-hundred dollars equals the tenth floor being clear of people for as long as I want it.

The elevators are still in fine, clean, working order and Miranda and I stand here shoulder-to-shoulder as the floors go by. I’m just proud that I didn’t revert back to my training and wait to get in another one so she could be alone. At the fifth floor I feel her move and I look up.

In the reflection of the elevator door I can see her take her sun-glasses off again and put them in the pocket of her coat. She takes her hat off too and runs a hand through her hair. I kinda wish she hadn’t done that. Not because she’s got hat-hair or something…that almost makes me chuckle and I have to clear my throat. Miranda and hat-hair are just two concepts that don’t go together. It’s just that her hair is…I don’t know…and I can see in the doors reflection that there’s a strand I could reach out and tuck behind her ear so, so easily. I wish she would put her hat back on but since it’s obvious that she’s not; I hold my hand out and she gives it to me. I’ve got my huge Coach bag with me and an entire house will fit in here if I deemed it worthy. An entire house _isn’t_ worthy of being in my bag; but Miranda’s hat is certainly a workable deal.

At the tenth floor the doors open and I get out. She doesn’t. I turn around and she’s looking at the scuffed marble flooring at my feet. “Miranda?” I question her. Hopefully she’s not about to back out now because I don’t think I could take that. Not after getting this far.

She just nods and finally steps off the elevator and since I know the way, I just lead her through this old _Runway_ lobby. It’s certainly nothing like the current one that’s for damn sure. I mean in its prime it might have been something but compared to what I ‘grew-up with’ this is nothing. It’s smaller, darker and just…not what I grew-up with. Not at all.

I hold open the main glass door that really gets you into the thick of things and she stops like she’s stuck to the floor. I have never seen her like this before and I’m beginning to feel like I’ve seriously misjudged my lofty idea that she would actually want to come in here.

“Miranda, we don’t have to.” I say and right now I am fully prepared to turn around and get her to this cherry blossom festival as fast as possible. Complete with candy and toys if necessary.

Just when I’m ready to verbally offer that very thing, she shakes her head. “No,” Miranda whispers, “This is fine. I suppose you’ve been here already?” She is sort of looking at the floor and looking at me at the same time.

I stifle down a breath of relief. It’s too early for that but at least she sounds better than she did out on the sidewalk. “Yeah, I came when I found out about it. I had to check,” I say as I wave my hand over the hallway; “to make sure it was worth coming back to.”

“Oh. Well…” Miranda straights her shoulders and breaths in deep though her nose almost like she’s physically preparing for what she’s about to do. Maybe she is. “Lead the way.”

It’s probably out of just seeing her do the exact same but I straighten my shoulders and take a deep breath too before motioning for her to come on through the door. Finally she takes the step and I continue in front of her, flipping on lights as I go down the first hallway.

This floor is an even worse maze than the current building but thankfully Miranda’s office isn’t but two turns to the right. Half way there she mumbles something about how nothing has changed but the pictures on the walls and the name on the glass door. I turn my head a little as we continue on and make the long story about those lawyers, a very short one.

That’s all the time it takes and then here we are. The set-up is almost the same, just smaller and darker like the lobby. The executive kitchen is down the hall instead of behind the second assistant’s desk and the coat closet is in a different spot…but basically it’s the same. I hadn’t realized it until now but my heart is pounding worse than it has all day and I’m starting to think this big fat Mocha Coconut Frappuccino was a mistake.

“Here we are…” Miranda says and puts a hand on my shoulder. It makes me jump a little and I guess she felt it because she removes her hand quickly. She could have left it. I wouldn’t have minded…

“Yeah. This is it.” I say. “It’ uh…not as grand as what you’ve got now…” Duh. Miranda knows that. That was so dumb. I hope this doesn’t signal the return of the rambling because that would seriously suck right now. I mean, yeah, I need to keep talking here but it at least needs to be something of…what….substance?

Miranda turns a slow circle in the space between the two assistance desks and looks around saying “No…no, it’s not.”, then starts to take her coat off almost like it’s a regular day at the office. She doesn’t throw it down on the desk though, or worse, throw it at me. Miranda just holds it and walks up to the door of her old office.

I still don’t feel good about this. I don’t think she wants to do this… “Miranda, really…you don’t have to…”

“Yes, I do.” she says before putting a hand on the door and opening it. The lights are already on. I hang back a little and Miranda stands there in the middle of the room with her back toward me. I wonder what she sees right now. I wonder if she sees everything like it used to be; all the pictures, the books, the racks of clothing. I wonder if she hears everything. Like in her head can she here the clackers? Or the sounds of the phones ringing? Or does she just see and hear this? An empty room? Just me and her breathing in this big empty space? Before I can ask she drops her coat on the desk and heads straight for the windows…of course. The windows. Always.

These windows are about the only thing larger than anything at Elias-Clarke. In fact they’re not windows, more like the entire back wall of her office…or old office rather. I bet she misses this. There is nothing blocking her view from floor to ceiling here. It’s all just glass.

I’m not sure what to do or where to stand since she’s yet to say anything…it’s been about five minutes. Should I say something? Or maybe leave…give her space? I don’t know, and since I don’t know I go ahead and sit down in a chair that’s been abandoned in front of her desk. It almost feels like old times but then again not at all. Really now that I think about it, it hardly ever feels like those old _Runway_ days except for when I’m wondering about what to wear once a week. And it probably helps that she never really brings up _Runway_ …which is kind of weird. I figure if she wants to talk about work she will but all she ever does when I ask her ‘So, how’s work?’, is say ‘Oh, fine.’

Well…that’s not true. Twice… _twice_ she’s told me more than that but only until she realized what she was doing, then she stopped. I don’t know why Miranda does that though. I don’t mind her talking about _Runway_. She could if she wanted and I even told her that but she just doesn’t…and then those two times all she said afterwards was ‘Oh, it’s only the same, boring, incompetence.’ when I tried to get her to keep going.

Miranda moves and it startles me so I look up. She’s turned to the side now, leaning against the glass and looking right at me. It reminds me of that time, that day…no. _No_ , I can hardly think about that day without crying so I’m not. I’m _not_ going to think about that because it was only a comparison in its simplest, harshest…truest form. That’s all it was. Because really…the day I met her, it’s true, I _was_ the smart fat girl compared to everyone else. But I proved her wrong. Or I hope I have. I hope I’ve become more. Even though I left…I hope I’ve become more.

Her voice startles me and I blink. “I know what you’re thinking about…” she says and my heart drops into my stomach. I don’t want to talk about that. At all…but apparently Miranda does because she keeps going. Why am I not surprised that she can tell just by looking at me that my mind is back on that day and her words?

“That was a rather unpleasant way of…well…” She stops for a second and reaches for a necklace that she’s not wearing. She always does that…plays with her necklace. It’s a nervous habit I guess. Realizing that there isn’t one there, Miranda plays with the collar of her blouse instead and I wait for her to continue. Finally she does. “Well it was a comparison of sorts but that is no excuse. The situation was, for my part, handled poorly.” Miranda looks away from me now and back out the window before finishing. “Let’s just say that it wasn’t one of my finest moments and leave it at that…shall we?”

“I…well…yes, I mean I knew that you…” Great. Here it is. My words are stuck already and I haven’t gotten to say _any_ of the things I wanted to say…had planned to say…great. But I’ve got to get over this. This is so stupid... I ball my hands into fists a couple of times and take a breath. I have to get over this. I have to learn to talk again or this is never going to work… “You could have fired me.” I blurt out. “I could be wrong but I think you would have fired anyone else…” Alright…okay…see? I can do this. I hope.

“And why do you think that is?” Miranda responds, still looking out the window.

“I just…I don’t know. It’s silly I guess…” Maybe I can’t do this after all. While I wait for her to speak I suck down the remainder of my big fat Mocha Coconut Frappuccino like it’s my last meal before execution.

“No, no…you’re right.” She says to me and the window at the same time. I sit up a little straighter. Miranda is almost whispering. “I would have fired anyone else then…long before then even. But I couldn’t. I tried though.” She turns the side again and I can’t look at her. I think this is going to hurt…no…I know this is going to hurt. “But you bested me…somehow, someway, you did it. Then…you left.”

Yes…yes, this hurts. I had no idea she would do this. I had no idea I would bring her here then get this in return. I would have been fine with never discussing the past, ever, at any time…surely she knows that. Surely she knows that I’d like to just remain ignorant and play pretend…to pretend I didn’t leave…to pretend she never said anything hurtful. Surely if she wants me to leave that ‘smart fat girl’ stuff behind then she can leave the rest behind too, hm? I mean…I just…oh, she’s still talking.

“And it was easy…yes. It was quite easy to let you go, Andrea.” I look up at her after this because I’m seriously about two seconds away from getting up all of the sudden. This can’t get any worse for me right now. No worse at all. It was easy? Well of course it was… “I had thought at first that it would be rather difficult, but I was wrong.” Oh, well that’s nice Miranda. Please, repeat that one more time…

“You’re upset because you can only imagine that I mean that in a cruel way…” Her voice is a whisper and I blink through tears that I just now realize I’m crying. Wow…I really need to just get out of here. Seriously.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” I say from the door because somehow between realizing I’ve been crying to three seconds later…I’m walking out again…

“Don’t leave, Andrea.” Miranda says from her place at the window. “You leaving for a third time isn’t an option.”

“What?” _Third_ time? My grip on the doorframe tightens and I swallow…I wish I still had some of my drink left. I don’t understand this and I really don’t understand what she’s doing. Why doesn’t she just let me leave? It’d be better than this. Better than waiting for her to say whatever cruel thing she’s about to. And I only left Miranda once so I don’t understand why she’s saying ‘third time’. She doesn’t know I left after…wait. _Lily_. My thoughts of Lily are cut off for a second when I hear Miranda again.

“A third time…please, come sit down.” From the window Miranda points to the chair behind the desk now but I go for the one I just vacated instead. She objects but I don’t care and now she looks at me like she’s totally pissed off. But…I don’t care. Lily’s a two-faced bitch and I _don’t_ care so I sit right down in that chair anyway. Fuck them both. If Miranda wants to talk about shit that I clearly don’t…well then I guess I can sit where ever I want to.

Miranda huffs out, “You’re being unreasonable.” then comes over to me, holding her hand out. “Come sit with me.”

There’s no way I’m taking her hand right now…no way, so I stare at Miranda until she rolls her eyes and goes back around the desk. Without a word she pushes the chair behind it out of the way and sits on top. Her feet dangle there going back and forth while she just stares out into nothing. Why is she so patient with me?

“I hardly knew what I was doing” Miranda says with her back to me of course. “When I started, you know. The magazine was nothing back then. Just a two dollar, pathetic waste of time and paper…and the two dollars.” Her shoulders are a little rounded and her hands are gripping the edge of the desk as she sits there.  “It took nearly two years really…to get things going. I almost…I almost gave up so many times.” Miranda whispers and for some reason this makes me forget all about how angry I am at Lily and her big mouth.

Giving up my anger, I get up and go around the desk. While Miranda keeps talking softly, swinging her feet back and forth like a little girl, I sit down on the desk with her. From this vantage point everyone below looks like tiny bugs ready to be crushed under foot. I watch the tiny bugs go by and listen to her voice as she quietly tells me all about the past. All about the times she almost gave up. All about the fights she had to wage for what she knew was right for her magazine. All about the sacrifices and the things she’s missed.

She tells me about the girls too, about sleepless nights and about how she had to practically schedule in the time to teach them how to walk right here in this office…and then that first divorce. I hadn’t known the reason for it before now but apparently Eric couldn’t remain faithful to the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in all my life. Why he found it so hard, I’ll never know. Sure she’s not perfect…but she’s perfect enough. But I guess that wasn’t quite perfect _enough_ for Eric. Oh, well. She’s better off. Just like she’s better off without Stephen.

From there she talks about the move to the new building. This seems to perk up her mood a bit. Miranda had pushed for it of course just like she’s pushed for everything else at Elias-Clarke. The company was expanding and all the magazines were not under one roof. Miranda thought that to be ‘ill advised’ so she pushed the board until they saw the light. Now they were a powerhouse, drawing upon each others resources when need be and the wealth in talent now housed under one roof was and still is, staggering.

“We’ll be moving again, you know.”

“Really?” I turn my head for the first time and look at her.

“Yes. It’s years away really but by then the time will be right. I need more space. I’m out of air.” This makes me chuckle. She looks over at me and rolls her eyes. “Something funny?”

“The thought of you…out of air. But then again…no, I can see how you’d feel that way. But will a new office really help that?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “Hopefully to a degree…and we really do need more space. The Closet alone is…well. Never mind.” Miranda sweeps the topic away with her hand and I know she’s done talking about _Runway_. I want to make her keep going but I know better. The look on her face tells me not to push. Suddenly I feel her bump me with her shoulder. “You know what today is don’t you?”

Uh…no. Am I supposed to? For a second I try hard to think of anything I might have missed but I can’t come up with anything. Miranda tires quickly of waiting on me, of course, and fills me in. “Eight months ago today was Ralph Lauren’s little benefit…remember?”

As if I will ever forget… “Oh, yeah.” I reply but my voice falters when I remember how it made me feel to see her there. Quickly I recover and clear my throat. “You snuck up on me.”

Shyly she replies, “Yes.”

Wait…she counted? I shake my head at my own idiocy of not catching on three seconds ago. “You counted?” That’s all I say because I know she’ll know what I’m talking about. Biting my lip I just wait for her to answer me.

“Yes, I counted.” She says matter-of-factly like I shouldn’t be surprised at such a _fact_ at all, then she says, “ Andrea, earlier…I only meant that it was easy to let you go because I knew…I knew I would see you again. Not that time in the street.” She waves a hand in the air. “That hardly counted…”

Well I guess it’s good to know that there’s one thing we agree on that doesn’t count, doesn’t matter…

“I mean like today. Like right now. I knew I would see you again…but for a while you…you disappeared, Andrea. You left.”

“Yeah…yeah, I did. You talked to Lily.” Like Miranda, I can turn questions into statements pretty easily.

“No. I mean yes, eventually. But I knew well before now. I only found out from her, just recently, where you’d gone…after you left in Paris I subscribed to _The Mirror_. I told you that didn’t I? Anyway…once I knew that’s what you had settled into I subscribed. But then…your writing wasn’t in the paper anymore. For two months…”

“Yeah…” I swallow hard and once again wish I still had some of my drink left. I don’t want to talk about this.

“Is that all you can say?”

“I guess. I mean I…Miranda what do you want me to say?”

“Honestly,” She sighs. “I don’t know what I want you to say at the moment, Andrea but do not be angry with Lily. I asked her. She did not merely divulge information and frankly I had to pry it out of her with a spoon…so if you want to be angry, be angry with me. I suppose it would be fair to say that I…”

I cut her off here because I know what’s ‘fair’ to say way better than Miranda does at this point. “If you knew I was gone and if you were so damned _interested_ …why didn’t you ask _me_? Why didn’t you come on over and ask me? A long, long time ago.” Before I say another word I jump off the desk and stand closer to the window. I can’t sit beside her. “You know where I live, Miranda. Roy dropped me off plenty times when you were in the car…I never moved. I bet you knew that too if you knew where I worked and when I _did_ or did _not_ have an article in the freakin’ paper.”

“Please, sit back down.”

“No.” I say with my back still turned. My insides are shaking and so is my voice. I can’t believe she knew I was gone and she’s got the nerve to question me about it but…damn it.

“You’re being unreasonable again.”

“You’re not answering my questions.”

“Fine then.” She sighs and I can hear her shift on the desk but she doesn’t get up. Thank God. I don’t want her to get up. “Everything you’ve just said is entirely valid.”

Wow. If this wasn’t killing me right now I would go find something to burn on the desk as a sacrifice in thanks to God for the miracle I just heard. Miranda. Validating something right off the bat. No arguments. No ‘that’s ridiculous’. Just ‘you’re right’, basically. But that still doesn’t really answer my question. “That’s great Miranda but you’re not answering my question.”

“I thought you would not receive that sort of thing very well; but I suppose it was more cowardice than anything. I knew though that we would meet again. Somehow.”

“Well we did.”

“Yes.”

Miranda goes silent for a second and I almost turn around. Surely she’s not done with this ‘tell all’ now? And apparently she’s not…since she’s off the desk now and her hand is on my shoulder.

“Please, come sit back down.” Miranda asks but she doesn’t wait for an answer. My reply gets lost in Miranda’s hands. They’re both on my shoulders now as she turns me around and presses me back toward the desk again. I have no choice but to sit back down. My heart drops into my stomach again…her hands are still on my shoulders.

“I was waiting on you, Andrea, but I see now that I must begin it.” Begin what, I think but don’t ask. Right now I can’t talk. The words are stuck. Again…my words are stuck. “In these months I’ve often wondered if you would be the one to make an endeavor yet as more time goes by, the more I think that we’ve been waiting on the other. In fact...you might disagree, but for all intents and purposes we have essentially been dating for eight months. Surely you realize this?”

Oh. My. God. Now more than ever I can’t say a word. Actually I can hardly breathe.

“Are you alright?” Miranda says as she cups my face with both her hands and tilts it up to meet hers. I haven’t been looking at her all this time. The only thing that registers with me right now is that Miranda’s eyes are light-blue.

“Yeah…I mean…I.” That’s it. That’s all I’ve got.

“Shhh…you don’t have to say anything. Just let me finish. I promise you that everything will be fine. Just let me finish.” Miranda says this almost cautiously like she’s trying to make sure I don’t run. Lily pops into my mind again. I briefly wonder how much Miranda knows…

“Andrea, I find myself quite in love with you…” Her words fall on me like drops of rain. Washing me off. It reminds me of Paris. When I went back. I went back to find my phone…my sanity…I found neither one of those things but I did get cleaned off enough in the rain to find the thought that would carry me back to New York. The thought that I would see her again. Somehow. That’s the only reason I came back.

Sadly enough she’s been talking this entire time and I’ve missed most of it. Blinking back tears as my mind is still seeing pictures of those two months I try to listen again.

“I tried not to be. I was even back then and I tried not to be…then you left. Twice…and then walked right into that bookstore and I just… Andrea I was on the way to dinner with someone the night we first met at the gallery. I had a ridiculous, meaningless date. I made him drop me off there instead. I couldn’t stay away from you. I can’t…it simply did not seem right to be away from you anymore.”

Now she almost looks like she’s upset or in pain or I don’t know what…it’s hard to interpret because I _feel_ exactly how she _looks_. I’ve got to open my mouth. I’ve got say something. Anything. “Miranda, I…” That’s as far as I get because she cuts me off.

“No. Don’t say anything, Andrea.” Miranda says as she puts a hand on the desk and leaves one hand on my cheek. “Don’t say anything because I can’t wait. I can’t wait any longer for my first taste of you. I can’t wait.” And then Miranda doesn’t wait anymore. She just leans into me and suddenly the entire room smells like rain.

I’ve thought about what this would be like many times. Many, many times but this hardly compares. Her lips are so soft and warm and it only takes me a second to lose everything in them. My hands had been gripping the edge of the desk this whole time but now they’re in her beautiful hair, that I’ve wanted to touch for almost two years. We pull each other closer and go deeper. Her tongue reaches out and caresses mine, making me whimper. That does something to her because she instantly goes from very slow and gentle to very deep and down-right aggressive. It takes my breath away and makes me hang on tighter, winding my arms around her neck.

It’s odd in a way but as she wraps her arms around my waist and spreads my legs until she’s standing between them, I feel like I’m being put back together. Like I’m getting my sanity back. Like I never threw my phone away or even left…twice. Time is eventually lost and with every minute that I can’t keep count of anymore, that feeling gets stronger and stronger until it’s burning me up inside. _Life_. This is life filling me back up. That’s exactly what this is.

Even though my mind is officially blown and gone, Miranda startles me all of the sudden. One of her hands leaves its place on my hip and plants itself firmly on the desk as she presses into me more with her body. I’m all but falling backwards as she leaves my mouth now too and moves down my neck. I have to let go of her and catch myself by putting a hand out behind me. I hear myself, I sound far away, say her name and even though it’s definitely not my intention, she pulls up and brings me up with her. I start to protest but her eyes shut me up. They’re not light-blue…I don’t even know how to describe this color. They’re…even lighter than that. I can’t describe it.

“No...I apologize…” Miranda says nearly panting, breaking in my thoughts. Apologizing? No way… “I’m not making love to you in this room.” Oh. Making love to me? Oh… Again she breaks in my thoughts and kisses me. Not deep though, but just enough to make me realize that she’s dead serious then breaks away just an inch and says “I want to taste everything…your skin.” She kisses me again in between her words. “Every inch…of you.” Several times Miranda repeats this as she kisses me over and over, going down her list of every part of me that she wants to taste, and ending it by moving her hands up my thighs. By the time she’s done I’m totally ready to say to _hell_ with not wanting to do all _that_ right here in this room. But I don’t. I really don’t want that because doing everything _I_ want to do, getting my _own_ first taste of everything that is Miranda…is going to require something a lot more comfortable than this desk.

But there is something I do want to do…or say. “Miranda?” I whisper in her ear since she’s kissing my neck again…God can this woman kiss.

“Yes?” Miranda pulls away. Her face is flushed. It’s beautiful. I give her a second to stand up straight and she puts both arms around me again. I’m actually proud that Miranda is making an attempt to listen to me because it certainly looks like she’d rather be doing something else.

“I left because I had to.” I say with a broken voice. “I had to get away for a while.” As soon as the words leave my mouth her expression softens and I feel her hands spread out across my back. It makes this easier since I never wanted to say any of this in the first place. “He didn’t have too but Greg kept my job open for me…if I came back. I didn’t know if I would.” Her eyes blaze at this just like I knew they would. Without thinking I reach up and smooth my hands over her eye lids, closing them. When I let them gently move down over Miranda’s cheeks and lips she kisses them. This makes me smile and I know I can keep going now. She’s okay. “I wanted to take everything back, fix all my mistakes, or find a way to forget. None of that happened. I wandered around for a long time trying to just figure out a way to get over you but I couldn’t. Something just took over eventually and I knew…I knew I would see you again. And then there you were.”

I can’t finish. I don’t even know what else I would say at this point anyway because as usual my words are stuck. And I’m crying. Not hard. But I’m crying anyway. Right before I wipe my eyes with my shirt sleeves Miranda wipes them for me, brushing the tears away with her fingertips. My head is heavy now and I press my face into her hands then into rest my forehead in the center of her chest. Miranda takes a breath and starts to say something but stops. Instead she just wraps her arms around me and unknowingly gives me the seconds I need to find my words again.

“I thought I would never get a chance to tell you Miranda, how much I love you. I thought I’d never…I was so scared.”

Miranda tightens her grip on me and I feel safe. I know she won’t let me fall apart. In fact, I think my days of falling apart are nearly over. In fact, I think my first taste of being right again has finally shown up. In fact, I’m suddenly ready to go. I’m ready to leave this building and let its life start over just like mine is about to.

“I’m ready to go.” I say, lifting my head. She’s smiling at me. I’ve rarely seen her smile a true, genuine smile so this takes my breath away for a second, like so many other things about Miranda.

“I agree…but I’ve changed my mind about the festival.” The way Miranda says this, almost in a shy way makes me laugh out-right. She rolls her eyes and a blush spreads across her face. “Next year…take me next year?”

“Yes.” I say pushing her back a little so I can stand. “Next year.” It feels good to say those two words because I know it’s true. There will be a next year. “Where do you want to go?”

“Connecticut.” She says like it’s totally nothing now, not shy at all. I shake my head and laugh again.

“What’s in Connecticut?”

“I passed a nice place there on the way to Maine a few weeks ago. We could…we could stay.”

“Miriam Lofton wants to take me to Connecticut?”

This time it’s Miranda’s turn to laugh. “Yes.” She says and kisses me quickly before grabbing her coat and my bag, pulling me toward the door the whole time. “She does. I can’t make it all the way to Maine this time. Connecticut is quite far enough.” Again she sounds so serious. I shake my head behind her and roll my eyes. Connecticut then…we’ll go to Connecticut. As if I could or would say no.

“Alright then…Connecticut it is.”

By the time we get to the lobby Miranda’s got her coat back on and sunglasses perfectly in place. I’ve put myself together too but I highly doubt I look as ‘perfect’. Not by a long shot. I follow behind her on the way out the door but once we’re on the sidewalk she stops and waits until I’m beside her before we move on. Then I realize she forgot to put her hat back on. I mention it as we make our way but she waves off the idea, saying that she ‘hardly cares’. I suppose it really doesn’t matter. After all no one’s paying attention to us. Today we’re just two people out here together…getting our first taste of being right again after so long.

THE END

 

 

 


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